


Pretty Boy

by LiveLongAndLove



Series: Purple Rain [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: But they don't know what yet, Enemies to Friends, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, There's something more going on here, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 09:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLongAndLove/pseuds/LiveLongAndLove
Summary: "All I could think about was his disgusting breath against my neck, the way his body was pressing against me from behind. I was frozen on the spot, and then he called me pretty boy, his mouth right against my ear…"Daryl Dixon had his demons, there was no doubts. But during all the time he's been living with Paul Rovia, he never quite realized that the younger man had his, too.





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! 
> 
> So here I am again. I definitely can't stop writing about these two, I'm guilty!  
> As always, all mistakes are mine as English isn't my first language. 
> 
> I hope you will enjoy reading it anyway! (and find me at the end for more note and explanations about the entire thing, if you want!)

Daryl sighed. It had been a mess, the entire thing. They had attacked the Saviors outposts as separate groups, all at the same time, and there had been losses. Especially on Negan’s side, luckily. Tara had bought back a shit tons of prisoners in Alexandria, on Jesus’ orders, and he knew how tense things had been between all the leaders reunited in the Barrington House a few hours earlier, debating about said prisoners.  
Daryl didn’t care. He had wanted to change his mind after all the killings and guns and violence of the day. And a hunt in the woods, alone with his crossbow, was all it took for him to relax at least for a bit. This is how he found himself in front of Jesus’ trailer, entering said trailer without even knocking on the door. 

It was a habit of his, to make himself at home in the hippie’s trailer, as he liked to call the younger man. Paul himself had told him to do as he liked, and stay for as long as he wanted. So Daryl did. He felt oddly comfortable around the man, as much as he had hated him at the first place. Jesus wasn’t a bad person, and he had made huge sacrifices to bring peace to his people at Hilltop. Daryl wasn’t an idiot, and he recognized the profound sorrow that he could see deep inside of the other man’s eyes, paired without an undoubtable resignation. Jesus wasn’t the happy ninja he made everyone believe he was, and ironically, it was the hunted look that had made him finally trust him enough to live with him full time. 

But when Daryl set foot inside of the trailer this time, he realized that he wasn’t alone like he thought he’d be. Jesus was there, sitting on his bed, facing the hunter. His face was hidden in his hands, and for a few moments, Daryl asked himself if he was crying. 

« Paul? » he mumbled, confused. 

He had always refused to call the other man by his surname. First of all because it was dumb, and probably came with a complex of some kind, he didn’t really care. The damn hippie didn’t look like a Paul, either, but he had to deal with it anyway, short on other options. 

« Daryl? » asked the other man, raising his head. « I didn’t know you were coming back to Hilltop. » 

The hunter was relieved to see that Paul wasn’t crying. He looked exhausted, and shaken, but he wasn’t crying. Daryl stayed by the door for a couple of seconds before heading to the sink in the kitchen to skin the squirrel and two rabbits that he had caught on his hunt. But after deposing them in the sink, rinsing his hands and forearms, he realized that Paul still hadn’t moved, surprisingly silent, and looked even more tired than a few seconds ago. Sighing, Daryl whipped his hands on his pants, and sat next to the other man on the bed. 

They both stayed like that for a while, none of them knowing what to do or say. Daryl was looking at his hands, playing with them and counting each passing seconds, while Jesus was staring at the space in front of him, eyes unfocused. 

« There was… » Paul began, clearing his throat to ease the lump in it. « There was this guy, a Savior, earlier. »

He stopped, like he didn’t know if he should have kept going with his story, or if Daryl was ready to listen to him. But the hunter didn’t move, nor made a sound. 

« He tricked me, making me believe he was harmless and even pissing himself, to use me as a hostage. He held his gun at me, right against my temple, telling Tara to let go of his weapon… »

He took a deep breath, chuckling without humor. 

« And I didn’t even care? » He looked up at Daryl, eyes bright and shiny with unleashed tears. « Because all I could think about was his disgusting breath against my neck, the way his body was pressing against me from behind. I was frozen on the spot, and then he called me pretty boy, his mouth right against my ear… »

He stopped again, and let his eyes fall on the floor of the trailer. Daryl was still silent, looking at the man before him with a tight knot forming in his chest. He had been right. He knew that look, he knew it because it was the same he used to hide by looking down when his family was trying to learn more about him, trying to get through the layers of shielded emotions he had built along the years. 

« I must sound so fucking weak » spitted the younger man, clearly angry at himself.  
« Ya don’t » groaned Daryl, sighing. « Ya don’t. »

Somehow, Paul got it. He didn’t ask Daryl why he was still sitting there, or why he was still listening to him when he clearly had something else to do. He didn’t question Daryl on the fact that he was so confident in his words. 

« Before all of this » whispered Paul, his eyes staring at the floor between his feet like he wanted to dig holes in it with his eyes. « Years before, actually, I had a boyfriend. We met in a bar, I was still studying at college and everything at this time, I was… what, twenty? Twenty one, maybe. I don’t remember. He was nice, polite, always smiling to everyone and especially me. We got together after a few dates, and we started dating like proper lovers, you know? » 

Daryl didn’t say a thing. Because he didn’t. He didn’t know, what it was like, to date someone. To go out, to kiss, to make love with someone he cared about. He didn’t know, because of his father and brother, both homophobic assholes who would have beaten the shit out of him if they had known that the younger Dixon wasn’t interested in women. He had longed to know this feeling, one day, before all of this. But now that the world had turned to shit, he had pushed these thoughts away. There was no time for happy endings now. 

« But after a while… he became extremely possessive. He was getting mad at everything I wasn’t doing the way he wanted, and I just felt hopeless and angry at myself every damn day. I was twenty-one, he was way older than me and I didn’t know anything about how relationships went. And most of all, he just couldn’t stop calling me « pretty boy »., or « pretty face ». All the damn time, in front of friends, or his family. He knew how much I hated it, and he couldn’t stop whispering it to my ears just to get me angry. »

Paul sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was telling the other man. Daryl had never been in this precise situation, but he knew how helpless one could feel when confronted to someone abusive, without finding the strength to break away from this grasp. 

« He’d touch me when I didn't want to, too. Not sexually, I mean… Sometimes. But mostly, he found it funny to get his hands on my ass or thighs when we were in public or with his friends, when he knew how much I was uncomfortable with this. I wasn’t really « out » at this time, you know? And somehow, this idea that he was claiming me as his thing in a way in front of everyone’s eyes made me really uncomfortable. I know that putting your hand on someone’s thigh is not necessarily a sign of possessive behavior, but… »  
« This is how it felt for you » finished Daryl quietly. 

Paul nodded. 

« Mostly, because he was doing it to get me mad, to make me uncomfortable. I used to love when he was touching me like that during our road trips, or at home watching a movie. But afterwards… it just became something I hated. »

He paused again, for a long while this time, and Daryl chewed on his lower lip. 

« Well, your ex boyfriend sound like a real dickhead » groaned the hunter, trying to get the younger man to relax a little. 

He seriously thought the hippie was gonna get cramped for an entire week from tensing all over like he was. But he knew damn well how he could tense and reject others when he was talking about his own demons, so he wouldn’t be the one judging here. But his joke got the desired effect, and a ghost of a smile graced Paul’s lips. 

« He was a peach, right? »  
« Damn well he was. »  
Both men looked at each other, smiling shyly. 

« I ended up finding the courage to leave him, you know? » he sighed. « I still felt like crap, though. And that’s why I started studying martial arts, and especially karaté. I hated feeling this hopeless, fearing that one day I might feel that way again because of someone like Jack. I learned to kick asses, and I felt better with myself, step by step. But today… I hated feeling that way again. And I hated myself for allowing my body and mind to freeze like I didn’t know what to do in this situation. »

His eyes fell on the floor once again, and Daryl chewed on his lower lip once again. He had never thought the younger man would feel comfortable enough to share this intimate story with him, and in a way, he felt undeserving of this trust. He didn’t know how to cheer people up, and Paul obviously needed him at this very moment.

« I’m sorry I told you all of this » huffed the ninja with a sad smile, still not looking at Daryl. « you probably had better things to do. »  
« What, skin a squirrel and two rabbits? » groaned Daryl, shrugging. « Ya don’t need to apologize. I mean… i’m literally living in yer house, I can listen to you whine from time to time, right? »

Paul laughed, hitting him on the shoulder with his fist. 

« Asshole. »  
« Sounds about right. »

Silence filled the room and Paul’s face was once again depraved from any emotions, much to Daryl’s sadness. He didn’t know why he cared about the other man’s well being suddenly, but the fact was, Paul had touched him with his words. More than anyone else, he knew how hard it was to admit than they had once been helpless and felt like shit, the scars on his back a friendly reminder of his own bittersweet memories. The man that he had spent so many weeks doubting of had just trusted him blindly, and something had shifted inside of him. He still didn’t know what, precisely, but it was this thing that pushed him to break words again with the younger man. 

« I was wrong, ya know? About ya being a prick. »

Paul raised his head, looking almost surprised by the hunter’s words. 

« Yer not a prick, or ya know, not completely. »  
Paul huffed, trying not to smile too wide. 

« ’n ya should be proud, you know. That you left. Many people never do. ’nd for what it’s worth, I never thought you were helpless. Quite the contrary, actually. That’s why I hated you so hard when I met you. »

Paul stayed silent, much aware that Daryl was opening up to him for the very first time, and that it was a proof of trust from the hunter. Something in his belly felt warm at the thought, and he tried as hard as he could to ignore it. 

« That’s why you shouldn’t be ashamed of yaself. Because ya find the strength to leave him, and that means you were always strong. Ya just didn’t know it before. » Finally said Daryl in a whisper. 

He avoided the other man’s eyes that he felt fixed on the side of his face, nipping at the skin of his thumb out of nervous habit. 

« And what do you know about it? » asked Paul, trying hard not to sound challenging or judgmental, only trying to see through the layers of shields that Daryl Dixon had built around himself. 

Daryl only smiled sadly.

« That’s a story for another time. »

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea actually came from the amazingly talented AbigailHT (abigailht on tumblr) who posted something about the second episode of the 8th season of the walking dead on her tumblr, and how it had disgusted her how the Savior called Jesus "pretty boy", rubbing himself against him and commenting on his pretty face. 
> 
> The idea came from this because I actually found it disturbing myself, and I really tried to make something out of it without making the reader pity Paul, even with his heavy backstory. I actually went through a bit of what's described here with a previous relationship, and I really wanted him to point out the fact that what he really learned from this story is that it made him strong, despite how weak he thought he was at the first place. 
> 
> Paul Rovia is a warrior, capable of killing us all in a blink of an eye, and nothing is ever gonna change that. He's not some pretty boy in the background, or even a way for Daryl to express his animalistic side in their relationship. They're both strong and equal men who've been through so much, and this time, instead of digging through Daryl's past, I tried to tell Paul's.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this work anyway, and don't hesitate to leave a comment if you wanna discuss further about this entire -way too long- end note! xx


End file.
